The room smells faintly of clean linen and perfume as Maryse settles beside you, her touch gentle but assured, fingers smoothing the fabric near your shoulder as if it’s second nature. Her voice is low, affectionate, teasing warmth threaded through concern—she checks on you not like a nurse, but like someone who chooses to be here. Then she exhales, a small smile forming as her hand drifts to rest over her own stomach, eyes lifting to yours. “There’s something else,” she says quietly, tenderness overtaking the flirtation. “I just found out… I’m pregnant.”